Monday, September 20, 2004

New verb.

I propose that American be used as a verb. For example, when I arrive in Paris I am going to American my way through security. Then, when I get to the train station, I'm going to American my way around until someone helps me--in English. You all know what I'm talking about, right? It's all very "kidding on the square," as Al Franken would say.

I am not getting sick. I'm just having an extreme physical reaction to all the stress. Or so I keep telling myself. Not sick. Not sick. Perfectly healthy.

I watched Richard III the day before yesterday. It was the Sir L. Olivier version, you know, where he plays R3 with "smoldering sexuality." It was pretty hot, until I read my trusty Norton, which said that R3, as Shakespeare created him, is a classic example of a sociopathic rapist. Ick and ick again. Still, it was a very interesting play. R3 is just such an amazing creation--for better or worse. Although less dramatic, I think I prefer the Josephine Tey version of R3 in _Daughter of Time_. Reading her book made me almost join the Richard the Third Anti-Defamation Society (yes, it exists. Found it on the internet. I bet there's also a R3 anti-defecation society too, but I'm not so interested in that one.) But now I am remov'ed from my books.

Day and a half before I fly out for Gay Paris. Do you know, I think I was guillotined in a past life. When I read _A Tale of Two Cities_ (which, just for the record, I didn't like) I absolutely felt the approaching dread of the trip to the head-chopper-off-er. "'Tis a far greater thing" etc, etc.

Anyways, this trip does not fill me with dread--if anyone was wondering. It was just the idea of an approaching event and the mention of Paris that reminded my of Mme G.